Where Chicot Guesses why D’epernon had Blood on His Feet and None in His Cheeks.

The king, returning to the Louvre, found his friends peacefully asleep, except D’Epernon, whose bed was empty.

“Not come in yet; how imprudent,” murmured the king to Chicot, who had also returned, and was standing with them by their beds. “The fool; having to fight tomorrow with a man like Bussy, and to take no more care than this. Let them seek M. d’Epernon,” said he, going out of the room, and speaking to an usher.

“M. d’Epernon is just coming in, sire,” replied the man.

Indeed, D’Epernon came softly along, thinking to glide unperceived to his room.

On seeing the king he looked confused.

“Ah! here you are at last,” said Henri; “come here and look at your friends. They are wise! they understand the importance of the duel tomorrow; but you, instead of praying and sleeping like them, have been running about the streets. Corbleu; how pale you are! What will you look like tomorrow?”

D’Epernon was indeed pale, but at the king’s remark he colored.

“Now go to bed,” continued Henri, “and sleep if you can.”

“Why not?”

“Much time you will have. You are to fight at daybreak; and at this time of year the sun rises at four. It is now two; you have but two hours to sleep.”

“Two hours well employed go a long way.”

“You will sleep, then?”

“Well, sire!”

“I do not believe it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are agitated; you think of tomorrow.”

“I will sleep, sire, if your majesty will only let me.”

“That is just,” said Chicot.

Indeed D’Epernon undressed and got into bed, with a calm and satisfied look, that seemed, both to the king and Chicot to augur well.

“He is as brave as a C?sar,” said the king.

“So brave that I do not understand it,” said Chicot.

“See, he sleeps already.”

Chicot approached the bed to look.

“Oh!” said he.

“What is it?”

“Look,” and he pointed to D’Epernon’s boots.

“Blood!”

“He has been walking in blood.”

“Can he be wounded?” said the king, anxiously.

“Bah! he would have told us; and, besides, unless he had been wounded like Achilles in the heel ——”

“See, the sleeve of his doublet is also spotted. What can have happened to him?”

“Perhaps he has killed some one to keep his hand in.”

“It is singular. Well, tomorrow, at least ——”

“To-day, you mean.”

“Well! today I shall be tranquil.”

“Why so?”

“Because those cursed Angevins will be killed.”

“You think so, Henri?”

“I am sure of it; my friends are brave.”

“I never heard that the Angevins were cowards.”

“No, doubtless; but my friends are so strong; look at Schomberg’s arm; what muscle!”

“Ah! if you saw Autragues’s! Is that all that reassures you?”

“No; come, and I will show you something.”

“Where?”

“In my room.”

“And this something makes you confident of victory?”

“Yes.”

“Come, then.”

“Wait, and let me take leave of them. Adieu, my good friends,” murmured the king, as he stooped and imprinted a light kiss on each of their foreheads.

Chicot was not superstitious, but as he looked on, his imagination pictured a living man making his adieux to the dead.

“It is singular,” thought he. “I never felt so be............